


insults & apologies

by nightbirdrises



Series: Sinking 'verse [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"…there’s something about you that makes me want to keep you smiling."</p>
            </blockquote>





	insults & apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this segment: harassment (like, the intent to gay-bash), more of that slut-shaming. The song is Secret by Maroon 5.
> 
> You can read Sinking in chronological order using [this page](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/sinking), or you can read it in the order of events as I wrote them [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/tagged/v%3A+sinking/chrono).

He was really starting to regret not driving to Sam’s place.

Blaine turned off the sidewalk to walk behind a series of buildings in the middle of Lima, hoping that the freezing wind would carry the snow around the brick figures rather than into his face. It was the first snow of the season, as Blaine’s luck would have it, and he still had a long way to walk before he reached his house.

 _"Dude, just hang out somewhere until it gets better."_  Blaine sighed loudly into his phone and zipped his jacket up as much as possible.

"You know it’ll just get worse," he said to Sam. "I’ll be fine."

_"Okay. Just don’t, you know, let your big toe freeze off. I heard about this guy—"_

"Sam. I’ll text you if I figure out that math problem, alright?"

_"Oh, thanks man! Later."_

"Bye." 

Blaine hung up, shaking his head. Sam was an amazing friend, but sometimes he wondered about him. A thin layer of white started to form on the ground as he walked, his hands shoved ineffectively into his pockets. He thought he heard footsteps nearby, but he shrugged it off. Blaine couldn’t be the only one walking around Lima’s busiest area, after all, even if he was in what would be the small-town equivalent of a dark alley.

More, heavier footsteps, and he spun around. Two men were behind him, one recognizable as a hockey player from McKinley. The other seemed older, though not by much, and they were both walking towards Blaine, who had stopped in his tracks.

"What do you want?" Blaine asked when they closed in, his mouth dry and his face numb. The men surrounded him, trapping him against the wall of what might have been the post office.

"Nothing much, really," the hockey player said; Blaine tried to wrack his brain for a name, but came up short. "Just wondering why you’re still walking around school like you own the place."

"I… don’t?" Blaine glanced between the two of them, mentally noting his observations. The hockey player was broad-shouldered and square-jawed; he wore a letterman jacket and an expression bordering on furious. The other man was taller, thinner, but his face portrayed no emotion that Blaine could tell.

The former continued, “Don’t fucking play with me, Anderson. You think just because you’re this big-shot on the field that it doesn’t matter that you’re into slutty twinks—”

"Stop," Blaine muttered, staring at his own feet. "Kurt’s not— Don’t bring him into this, please, he’s nothing like that."

"Oh, please. Fags like you just want a dick in your ass and it’s not right, man."

"Love isn’t right?" Blaine blurted out, lifting his chin to face him head-on. The man rolled his eyes.

"Don’t give me that love crap. A guy can’t feel  _that_  for another guy, some biology stuff gets in the way or whatever. But that’s not the point. You’re a fag and you don’t deserve shit.”

Blaine clenched his hands into fists even as a rushing sensation filled his ears and left him speechless, his jacket shifting noisily against the brick as he took a step back.

"You need convincing?"

 _Of what?_  Blaine thought, but his mind went blank as the other man grabbed his left wrist and slammed it painfully against the wall near his head. His right wrist followed the same pattern before he could gather his courage — he was pinned, helpless, in front of this guy that probably wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him.

 _It’s happening again no no please_ , he pleaded silently, endlessly, closing his eyes as if he could escape simply by being unable to see what was about to happen. But still the tight grip on his wrists remained, the backs of his hands chafing unpleasantly against the wall. He braced himself for the impact, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"What the _fuck_  do you think you’re doing?” Blaine frowned; his imagination ran in strange circles under stress — surely the voice wasn’t real? Something in his chest expanded as he let himself imagine that voice whispering, singing, even saying nothing at all.

The fingers around Blaine’s right wrist loosened their hold, and his curiosity took over. Eyes open just a crack, he noticed that the two men were no longer looking at him, but at something just to the left of his field of vision. A slight turn of his head, and the first thing that registered in his mind was snow-dusted, pink-streaked hair.

The next thing that registered was a name.  _Kurt. That’s Kurt, he’s here, why is he here? He shouldn’t see me like this._

"What has he ever done to you little fucks?" Kurt asked sharply, eyes narrowed. Blaine made a mental note to never cross him if he could help it. And then he realized that Kurt was speaking and expecting an answer and wondered what had gotten into him. Normally, Kurt avoided any reason to converse with someone that didn’t know sign language or that wasn’t Blaine. He had a feeling it had to do with his lack of confidence in his own voice, though Kurt would never admit such a thing.

"Why do you care?" the hockey player —  _Jason, that’s his name_  — sneered. Blaine watched Kurt’s eyes follow Jason’s lips with the faintest trace of revulsion.

"I happen to care a lot about my boyfriend," he said.

"Disgusting," Jason muttered. The other man had released Blaine by now, though he remained where he was, transfixed by the scene in front of him. 

"I think you’re pretty disgusting, too," Kurt said dryly, a corner of his mouth turned up in amusement at the surprise on Jason’s face. "I don’t have to hear you to know what kind of shit you’re saying."

"Fucking fags. Maybe you can learn something from this," Jason said, speaking slowly and mockingly before he turned back to Blaine and pinned him against the wall again with a hand on his chest. Stars exploded in Blaine’s mind at the sudden impact, disorienting him.

What happened next went by in a series of snapshots in Blaine’s confused state.

The first thing he saw was Kurt running at Jason, shoving him away from Blaine and knocking him off-balance.

The second thing was Kurt throwing a punch directly to Jason’s face, the resulting smack echoing in his ears.

The last thing was Jason and his friend disappearing between two buildings, the former holding a hand against his cheek as he glared at Kurt and Blaine.

"Fuck, that hurt." Blaine blinked and saw Kurt cradling his right hand as he kneeled on the concrete. Crouching down next to him, Blaine didn’t hesitate to frame his face in his hands, staring in disbelief before pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a brief kiss.

"You didn’t have to do that," Blaine said, pulling back so that Kurt could read his lips. Kurt shook his head.

"I didn’t mean to  _punch_  the guy, I—” He shook his head again. “I hate violence and it’s stupid to fight fire with fire but…”

"I understand," Blaine said softly.

"He was going to hurt you and I had to do something because… because you don’t deserve that," he finished lamely. Blaine hummed soothingly, kissed him again. "You didn’t deserve it the first time either, you know."

That caught Blaine off-guard. “How do you know—”

"Lucky guess," Kurt said with a wan smile. They fell silent; the snow drifted around them in swirling, confused patterns that Blaine quickly lost track of as he started to regain his sensitivity to the frozen air.

"It’s cold." Kurt chuckled and stood, holding a hand out for Blaine to take and pulling him up as well.

"Let’s go to my place," he hummed. "It’s closer." Blaine nodded and let Kurt lead him by the hand. It was nice; Kurt rarely held his hand for long, at least not in public.

 _He’s my anchor_ , he found himself thinking.

They reached the house within minutes and walked inside. Burt had to work in the shop today, so it was empty. Kurt didn’t let go of Blaine’s hand even as they climbed the steps.

Just before Kurt reached to open the door to his room, another door flew open with a loud bang that had Blaine flinching violently, a panicked thought of Jason having followed them crossing his mind. Before he knew it, he was curled up pitifully on the floor, his arms folded in front of his face. He vaguely twitched his hand towards Kurt, as if trying to grab his hand again.

"Holy shit— Blaine, dude, are you okay?" Blaine looked up, the beating of his heart slowing as he took in the sight of Finn. Then it sped up again because this had all happened because of Finn, the one that had told everyone about Blaine in the first place, that had  _outed_  him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt beat him to the punch.

"This is your fault," he shouted. Finn took a step back and signed something — never before had Blaine wanted to know more sign language than he already did.

"You outed him to the entire school, you idiot," Kurt said, fuming. "He just almost got the shit beat out of him, did you know that? All because he’s  _gay_  and he’s dating  _me_.”

Finn turned to Blaine, eyes wide. “Is that true? Did that just—”

Blaine nodded. He didn’t have the strength to speak.

"Oh my god. Uh…" Finn signed again, slowly, and Kurt let out a huff as he responded in kind and walked into his room, the door slamming shut behind him. Blaine missed his presence almost immediately, feeling smaller than ever. Finn held out a tentative hand. "Here."

Blaine took it and allowed himself to be pulled up for the second time today, though he sagged against the wall once he was standing.

"What?" he asked wearily.

"I’m really, really sorry," Finn said, watching him. "I had no idea."

"No idea that you were outing me?"

"That you’d get so much crap for it. I wasn’t thinking; I know what almost happened to Kurt and I still told people about you."

"Why?"

Finn shrugged self-consciously. “I guess I was a little freaked out that my stepbrother was actually  _with_  a guy and that it was someone I knew. I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

"Okay," Blaine mumbled.

"Can we start over or something? I think you’re a cool guy, Blaine."

Blaine considered him for a while, his mind drawing a blank on everything he wanted to say. Finally, he said, “Starting over would be great.”

Finn broke into a wide grin; Blaine yelped as he was engulfed in a massive, spontaneous hug.

"Between me, the football guys, and Kurt, no one’s gonna hurt you," Finn said when he pulled back, his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. "I promise."

Blaine smiled, ducking his head as Finn headed down the stairs. It took him a moment before he remembered that Kurt was waiting; Blaine opened the door and slipped into the room to find Kurt lying on the bed with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and his eyes closed.

A quick search around the room, and Blaine found his dry-erase board — he’d left it here a few days ago. He carried it to the bed and carefully climbed onto the mattress next to Kurt, scribbling a short message as his boyfriend opened his eyes.

_Are you okay?_

“‘M fine,” Kurt mumbled around his cigarette.

 _Do you want to cuddle?_  Blaine peeked over the edge of the board as he showed the message to Kurt, who rolled his eyes.

"Such a sap." But he tossed the cigarette away and turned onto his side, curling up against Blaine. His arm wrapped protectively around Blaine’s torso as he watched him draw a series of random music notes on the board. The drawings weren’t exactly perfect considering the fact that he had a boy pressed against his right arm, but Blaine didn’t mind. "Do you ever sing?"

 _A little bit_ , Blaine wrote.  _I wish I had some real experience though._

"No dysfunctional show choirs in your life, huh?" Blaine chuckled.

_Unfortunately not ):_

Then,  _You’re talking a lot more lately._

"If you mean earlier…"

_I mean in general. It’s a good thing. I love your voice :D_

"Oh. Thank you." Kurt buried his face against Blaine’s neck and mumbled, "I miss my voice. Fuck, I wish I could hear  _yours_.”

Blaine bit his lip, thinking. An idea hit him, and he nudged Kurt to get him to look back at the board.

_Maybe you can_

Kurt snorted. “What kind of miracle potion do you have? Pretty sure my ears are shot.”

_Well maybe I can sing for you. I can write the lyrics on this board and you can have your hand on my neck so you can feel my voice._

"Huh," Kurt said, intrigued. "You think that’ll work?"

_Works for dirty stuff, doesn’t it?_

"You, sir, are five years old. Okay. Go ahead."

_Give me a sec_

Kurt nodded against his shoulder and waited as Blaine shuffled through his mental playlist for a good song. He passed by endless Katy Perry and Brian Ferry until he reached the memory of what he hoped would be an appropriate song for the moment.

Blaine reached for Kurt’s hand, which seemed determined to remain at his waist, but a little cajoling and Kurt huffed as he let his hand be moved to cover Blaine’s neck. Even such little pressure against his throat left Blaine vaguely dizzy and wanting, but he had a mission to complete.

He began to write.

  
_Watch the sunrise_  
_Say your goodbyes_  
_Off we go_  
_Some conversation_  
_No contemplation_  
_Hit the road_

  
He began to sing.

Blaine sang each verse through before writing the next, which broke the song up into pieces, but he hoped that Kurt liked it anyways. Finally, he finished the last line ( _Slowly you say “I’m not there yet!”_ ) and took a deep breath.

"That was beautiful, B," Kurt said sleepily, and Blaine felt his smile against his shoulder. "You should sing more often."

_Why’s that?_

Kurt returned his hand to Blaine’s waist, squeezing lightly. “Because you’re good, dumbass. And I think it can make you happy.”

_What about you? I want you to be happy too, but you can’t hear me if I sing ): At least not if I do performances and stuff_

"I think it’s safe to say that I’m happy if you’re happy," Kurt hummed. "It’s weird. I care about a lot of people, but there’s something about you that makes me want to keep you smiling."

_You make me smile_

_And really happy, like :D that happy x500_

"I’m glad," Kurt said, amused. Blaine grinned and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s forehead, laughing at the way Kurt scrunched his face in response.

 _So, are you better than fine now?_  Blaine wrote.

"Way better. Mostly because you’re here and safe and not fucked up in any way."

_I don’t know, I think we’re both pretty fucked up in our own ways no matter what_

"Hm. You’re probably right. But you know what?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt, prompting him to continue. Kurt smiled; his ankle hooked around Blaine’s, pulling them closer.

"I don’t mind being fucked up if you’re still here."


End file.
